Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Tales of a Drunken Degenerate, Chapter 29, Copyright 2010, Robert J. Day

Walking up the stairs to Wal-Mart girl’s apartment you’re both nervous and excited. You realize you should have called first, you haven’t spoken to her since before all the crazy shit with the bikers went down. The day Chickenwing flew the coop to rehab. The day she told you she was pregnant and your life changed forever.. You suddenly realize that she may not even be home. After all, it’s the middle of the afternoon on a Wednesday, most “normal” people are working at jobs they hate. Of course, this woman is anything but “normal.”. Your first knock is so light she would need dog ears or highly sophisticated spy equipment to hear it. Cursing yourself for a fool, a scared little boy trying desperately to grow up and be a man, you knock again. This time you overcompensate and it sounds like the Gestapo are at the door, intent on a brutal interrogation followed by a one-way train ride to the camps. You have the absurd urge to yell out, “Open the door, we have you surrounded! Resistance is futile!”. Thankfully, before you succumb to this childish whim, the door opens. Wal-Mart girl is standing there, looking fantastic in a dark blue sundress that falls to mid thigh. You catch a whiff of some floral scent, subtle and understated.. “Oh, it’s you…” she says, sounding surprised and a bit taken aback by your sudden appearance on her doorstep. “Who is it?” asks a voice from inside. In the living room behind her you notice there’s a man sitting on the couch, holding a Playstation controller in his hand. He’s young, early to mid twenties, scraggly brown hair in desperate need of washing falls down to his shoulders. Wearing an old Megadeth t-shirt, ripped and faded jeans, and combat boots. Your standard issue slacker/stoner dude. .“A friend” says Wal-Mart girl and leaves it at that. “Tony I think you should probably take off now, we need to talk.” “Ah, come on babe, I just leveled up…” Tony’s eyes never move away from the television and he makes no move to leave. “Get the fuck out!” she orders him, loud and forceful enough for Tony-boy to get the message. “Whatever. Call me later?” he throws the controller onto the couch, pouting, then slinks out the door, avoiding eye contact with you.. The familiar way he called her “babe” puts you off, and you can’t help wondering just what the hell is going on with them. You feel hurt and jealous. There’s an awkward silence that lingers long after Tony is down the stairs and gone.. All of a sudden it’s like you’re back in middle school, at the spring dance with your first real girlfriend, Veronica. You’re completely petrified, unable to even form a coherent thought, much less turn that thought into words. You seem to have temporarily lost the capacity for speech.. Wal-Mart girl breaks the silence at last. She does not invite you in for video games. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what happened to you? You look like you got hit by a Mack truck.” After much throat clearing and a couple false starts you manage to say, “I was kidnapped and tortured by that crazy biker and his buddies, but I’m fine now.” She looks concerned and starts to reach out to you, then stops herself. You press on.. “Look, my life is a wreck. A totally fucked up mess, and it’s been like that for a long time now. I think I just stopped caring, and could never find a reason to start again. What I’m trying to say is, oh shit, what I’m trying to say is… this thing… this baby thing…” “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that” she says quickly, cutting you off mid-sentence, “I took care of it. I’m not pregnant anymore.”. You were about to tell her how you felt about her, that you had finally found a reason to care again and it was her and the child the two of you had made together, but her words stop you dead in your tracks. You feel like you’ve just been stabbed in the chest with an icicle. You can’t seem to catch your breath, and standing there at the top of those gray concrete steps, you feel some part of you, something deep inside, die a horrible death. “I gotta go” you gasp, then flee down the stairs as fast as you can.TO BE CONTINUED...

About the Author

A fiery bike with the blinking lights, a cloud of smoke and a hearty "Hi Yo Silver!" The Lone Stoner! "Hi Yo Silver, away!" With his faithful Indian companion Toke-o, the daring and resourceful masked rider of the Playa, led the fight for liberty and tolerance on the West Coast. Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear. The Lone Stoner rides again!